Over the Edge
by Rasial
Summary: Mature content. Cartman kidnaps Kyle with the intention of proving to Kyle, via sexual teasing, that he's a sadomasojizzt. It's a long journey into Middle School before Kyle can move on from what's been done to him. Kyman, one-sided Style, non-con warnings.


*Banjo chords*

Cartman tossed and turned in his sleep, a creepy smile on his unconscious face.

He was dreaming about something that had happened only last week. Cartman had convinced Ike and Kenny to join the Denver mafia - he'd promised Kenny he'd get a mistress, since all mobsters had one, and Ike that he'd get clout to influence the outcomes of local elections.

But things had gone sour in Loogie's Italian restaurant when another two crime families had gatecrashed the place. Kenny was shot in the exchange as the two families "negotiatied" over who would get Loogie's boys to take hostage and ransom.

Then, a door from the kitchen opened and a hush fell as someone swaggered in:

Kyle's red hair was slicked back and combed, and he was wearing a gold chain and ring that Cartman remembered as being some of his "Jersey things". But now they were paired with the black suit he wore to funerals, without the red tie.

"Ah, it's Jersey's son." A few breathy, smooth older male voices murmured.

He'd very cooly ignored Loogie, Ike and Cartman, and had stood between the families and given some gay, but apparently incendiary, speech which caused the families to forget their new hostages, and start using their weapons on each other.

Before Cartman knew what was happening, Kyle was sneaking up behind him and clamping a hand over his mouth. Cartman still remembered the way he smelled vaguely of moth balls and hair product.

What had really happened the week before, was that Kyle had dragged first Ike, then Loogie, then Cartman silently to safety. Then the three South Park boys had gotten the hell out of Denver while a mob war ensued.

But now, in Cartman's dream, Kyle dragged him just out of range of the shooting and, without a word, kissed the hell out of him. Cartman's knees went weak and he whispered to the redhead: "Let's get outta here."

The dopey smile on Cartman's sleeping face was changed to one of confusion when his mother called "Wake up, poopsikins, there's breakfast!"

"Ah! Argh ah huh!" Cartman spluttered as he sat up bolt upright in his bed. He panted heavily in his teddy bear pajamas.

"No...no, it can't be. GODDAMN it!"

Anyone but Kyle. This was the third dream this week! After the first such dream, he had awkwardly thanked Kyle for saving his life, and the Jew appeared to think Cartman had been keeping his distance at school due to a sense of owing him, or embarrassment or something. That was nice; it worked for him. But it was becoming clear to Cartman that these feelings weren't going away of their own accord. He was going to have to find another way...

xxxxxx

Kyle was sleeping when Cartman slipped into his window on Saturday morning - the sun wasn't even up. He held up a syringe, flicked it, and then held a rag over Kyle's mouth, to gag him as the needle slipped in. Kyle murmured, lifting his head off the pillow, but sunk back, his eyes rolling in his head.

Cartman clicked his fingers in Kyle's ear. Then, gave him a slap across the cheek.

Kyle didn't stir.

"Sweet."

Cartman slung the sleeping boy over his back and groaned "Fuck...ungh...Damn Jew, you weigh a tonne." He tied the boy in a waiting sling and lowered him into a wheel barrow below.

Cartman slid down the rope, leaving the window open, and the sound of his chipper whistling echoed up to Kyle's empty room.

Xxxx

A bucket of cold water drenched Kyle. He spluttered and strained. He was blindfolded, and his arms were tied, wrists to elbows, behind his back. His legs were splayed and tied, each to a leg of the chair. His hat and space man pajama bottoms were still on, but his shirt was gone.

"Kkhm...Cartman?!" Kyle fumed.

Cartman's eyebrows twitched to express surprise. "Hmm...good deduction." He paced. Given your apparent ties to the criminal underworld, "Mr Jersey" how did you know it was me that kidnapped you?"

"Knock it off, Cartman." Kyle complained. "We play in your basement all the time - it smells like mould - that's where we are, right?"

Cartman waved a worried hand in front of Kyle's face. Could the damn Jew see? But no, he was just being a lame little know-it-all again. "Well done, Kyahl, well done."

Cartman paced some more.

"Besides, when anyone ties me up, statistically speaking, it's you." Kyle grunted. "Have I ruined whatever this is? Can you let me up now?"

"Not yet." Cartman crooned. "You have a point, you know. We do spend an awful lot of time torturing each other. Scheming. Humiliating one another. Why do you think we do that, Kyle?"

"I do it to you, because you do it to me!" Kyle flared. "It's not like I stay awake at night, trying to think of new ways to pick a fight with you."

"You may not do that, Kyle, but I do." Cartman said ominously. "I think you may have wondered, from time to time, whether I am not quite a normal little boy."

"Well, yeah." Kyle shrugged his shoulders, masking his attempt to wriggle his hands out of their bindings. No luck. "You do some messed up things, Cartman. Especially to me."

"And do you ever...enjoy putting me back in my place? Does a little thrill of righteous anger trail its way down your spine any time you manage to best me?"

Kyle fell silent for a moment. "I...guess so?"

"Didn't you laugh and dance when the head of Fox Studios refused to ban the-show-that-must-not-be-named?" Cartman prompted.

"Family Guy?" Kyle suppressed a grin. "Yeah."

"And didn't you laugh your ass off when I was "diagnosed" with Gingervitis? Didn't the whole thing, down to painting the freckles on my face, make you tingle with excitement?"

"What the hell, Cartman? What is this all about?" Kyle began to be worried that this was some ultimate revenge that might seriously harm or kill him. It was never good when Cartman started monologuing.

Kyle rocked in his chair.

Cartman came over and placed a hand on Kyle's shoulder, steadying him. "Shh Kyle, I'm not going to hurt you, I swear." Kyle could hear the smile in his voice and was not convinced at all.

"Help!" He yelled. "Mrs Cartman?"

"On a business trip in Denver." Cartman laughed. "For the whole weekend. So there's no one to hear you scream."

"Don't you have a baby sitter?" Kyle asked.

"They won't come here any more - I eat babysitters for breakfast." Cartman laughed. "Now, where were we? Oh yes. What about when you convinced me that Somalia was a luscious pirate oasis? Weren't you just kicking back somewhere, with your feet up, jacking it until you realized your precious brother was with me?"

"Sure. But then I came to save you all and YOU tied me up." Kyle returned.

"Don't you see something to this pattern? I provoke you, and you...punish...me." Cartman began to massage Kyle's bare shoulders - it made Kyle very nervous.

Cartman leaned in near Kyle's ear, voice silky. "And what about when you saw me blurting out shit I couldn't control at the party before my interview with Chris Hansen? Hmm, Kyle?"

"I wanted you to make sure you didn't belittle my people on national TV!" Kyle hissed.

"Yes, but afterwards, didn't you wish you could have forced me back on to the show? Didn't you want me to blurt out my darkest secrets, only to taste the salty tears of my humiliation?"

"And teach you a lesson!" Kyle spat. "You're always doing these things. Not thinking about anyone else but you...what the hell do you want me to say? That I'm as bad as you are? Well, I'm not." Kyle nodded firmly under the blindfold.

"Doesn't that depend on _why_ you do it?" Cartman asked, his hot breath tingling against Kyle's neck in a way that made him feel flustered. "If you're punishing me to save the world, well then, good on you. But if even part of you foils my plans just for the satisfaction of watching me squirm, then I submit to the court of the moral high and mighty that you, too, are fucked up, Kyle."

Cartman allowed himself a few delightful, silent seconds of listening to Kyle's PC little brain tossing the idea back and forth.

"No..." Kyle faltered.

"You know...I've always wondered...you, Stan and Kenny weren't there the day Butters showed my Britney Spears dance tape as revenge for the Awesome-o gag. But I'm sure in this day and age, someone recorded it, on their phones or something. In fact, I seem to remember it being shared around the computer labs in skewl." Cartman's finger tips just lightly flickered over Kyle's nipples before he gave the red-heads' shoulders one more massage-squeeze. "Did you ever watch it, Kyle?"

 _God damn it, I'm kickass at this_. Cartman told himself. He'd managed to make the fight for Kyle's soul hinge on the one video that no one in South Park would have been able to refuse to watch...

"I watched it." Kyle admitted, ashamed. "I watched it six times."

"What did you feel, when you watched?" Cartman asked ever so softly, leaning over the tied-up boy.

"Uh..." Kyle remembered laughing hysterically at first, but as it went on, wondering about Cartman's sexual identity, and his mental health more generally...

"What the fuck? What are you...?"

Cartman had begun mouthing the side of Kyle's neck. "Mmm yes. It felt good, mocking me, didn't it Kahl?"

"Gross...are you KISSING me?!" Kyle tried to lean away. "Stop slobbering on me you psycho!" Kyle's cheeks burned with outrage.

"I've come to realise that we're both sick, Kyle. We suffer from something called "say-doh-maso-jizzm". It basically means that we get hard from hurting and humiliating people; and from being humiliated in return."

Kyle spluttered. "I don't know what the hell explains what you are, fatass, but I am not suffering from sadomasojizzm, or whatever it's called. I don't like hurting people; not even you."

"No, Jew? So you wont ever again be calling me fatass, or lard-butt, or whatever other juvenile slurs you can concoct against my large-but-manly physique?" Cartman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Admit it Kyle, we've been circling each other for years, scheming to mask the tension. But this time I've done my research. On. The. Internet."

Without another word, Cartman flipped the top off a bottle and poured baby oil on Kyle's bare chest.

"What are you? Hn..."

Cartman rubbed it into his chest, focusing around the nipples.

"Hmm Kyle. Is it cold in here? Your nipples seem hard."

"Holy fuck dude...are you going to try to have sex with me?! This is rape. Help!...I don't consent!"

"Not yet, Kyle, but you will." Cartman smirked. "It's like this. I have a camera aimed on you at all times. Everything that's happening to you is being recorded and may be shown to others...perhaps even the general public...at a later date. I've let your mom know that you are staying over at Stan's house for the whole weekend, so no one is going to be looking for you until Monday morning. Until then, I will be finding different ways to humiliate you, or, since all is fair in love and war, to humiliate myself for you, as an experiment to learn where your moral proclivities truly lie. In sexual terms this kind of teasing is called edging."

"You're so going to jail." Kyle spat.

"Now, now, I've accepted that I am a...deviant...and you can too. At any time, you can get me to stop; you can beg me to put you over the edge. All you have to say is — 'I'm a sadomasojizzt, I like you, Cartman, and I give you consent.' And then I'll let you come."

"That's creepy! I don't want to come at all yet - we're way too young for this stuff!" Kyle panted as Cartman's fingers distracted him for a second. "What fucking websites have you been visiting?!" Kyle's voice became higher pitched and fervoured.

Cartman chuckled. "Only the darkest and most depraved corner of the web: Tumblr."

Kyle gasped as Cartman's oil-slicked hands now plunged toward the belt line of his trousers.

"Don't do it Cartman! Don't! —" Cartman's greased hand slid down past the elasticized waist of Kyle's pajamas, and he shuddered as Eric's fingers, rather than grabbing straight for his junk, remained in his underwear and teased the creases where his thighs met his groin - first one, then the other.

"That...feels really wrong. Cartman...Please don't do this to me. This is low even for you." Kyle gasped as Cartman pulled open the elastic and poured cold oil from the bottle directly on his groin.

"Don't worry, I'll rub that in for you." Cartman began massaging Kyle's testicles, that were still mostly smooth.

"Ah-ah...get your HANDS OFF MY BALLS YOU FREAKING QUEERMO!" Kyle yelled.

"You don't like this?" Cartman asked, nonchalantly as though they were discussing music being played on the radio.

"NO!"

"Does it hurt?" Cartman asked.

"N-no...but it's uncomfortable! Weird and tingly and creepy." Kyle admitted.

"Is that tingle anything like the feeling you get when we cross swords and you win, perhaps?" He was groping Kyle's hip and groin, and already noting that Kyle was gripping his hands into fists behind his back.

Kyle blushed, and focused on trying not to make any reaction happen down there. He'd never had an erection, but he was sure that if he got one in this situation, not only would Cartman take it as some sort of proof that his crazy theory was valid—but Kyle would probably end up in therapy for years.

"Hmm, so no reaction to normal sexual stimuli; I wonder what happens if we apply a little kink." Cartman grinned to the camera. "Something like...Kyle's Mum is a Big Fat Bitch in D Minor?"

"Don't call my mum a bitch, Cartman!" Kyle said through gritted teeth. The outrage momentarily distracted him from his groin and what was going on there.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell—"

"Fuck off Cartman; you've got your hand down my pants and you're talking about my mom; are you trying to scar us both for life?!"

Cartman pressed play on his prerecorded aggravating song, and Kyle remembered back to an entire sea of his classmates, even his twisted teacher, singing along. It had been so embarrassing. He was always the one singled out to be made fun of. Goddamn town full of rednec—

Cartman had just wrapped his hand around the shaft of Kyle's penis and was sliding the oil up and down. It was fast, disorienting, in pace to the song...Kyle yelled out for Cartman to stop, and remembered when Cartman had taught them to play "Red Rocket" with the local dogs, feeling uncomfortably hot under his paunchy little nemesis' hands.

Cartman took the few bars of instrumental to note the blush and the subtle press of Kyle's groin into his hand. "Half hard now...guess the anger and humiliation does help you get off, huh Jew? How much better would this feel if I got down on my knees and sucked your balls right, now? You could splooge right in my face and get even for every time I've called your mother a bitch, or belittled your Jewish heritage. Don't you want to punish me?"

"Yes! No! Argh! WHY, Cartman?!" The tingling was getting more noticeable; it seemed to be drowning out recorded-Cartman's singing.

"Keep saying my name Kyle; I like it." Cartman grinned. He'd come around and was kneeling in front of Kyle now, and had managed to shuffle Kyle's underwear and pajamas down to his calves and ankles. "You think I can take both your balls in my mouth at once?

Cartman began licking and sucking the area, giving long strides up the shaft with his tongue. Kyle's groin was desperately throbbing, now. He tried to rock the chair away, but now he didn't dare talk; he was terrified he might accidentally make some groaning sound like pleasure. Cartman was always creative with his mouth; usually he was using it to spin a tale for the whole sucker-filled world to hear, but now with all this sex stuff, he seemed like a natural—like someone who was in no way a virgin. But where would Cartman have learned these skills?

As the song crescendoed, the wetness of Cartman's mouth closed over the sensitive exposed head of Kyle's circumcised cock. Cartman enveloped the head in a way that made Kyle moan and twitch, unable to contain it .

"Cartman stop it, stop it, PLEASE stop it, I Uh, oh God something's going to—"

All of a sudden, Cartman stopped and hit pause on the song, leaving Kyle's now quite-hard cock quivering and exposed to the air.

"Jesus Christ, what WAS that?" Kyle panted. "You freaking hate me, why would you try and make me come?"

Cartman inspected his fingernails. "I wasn't trying to make you come, dumbass. I just wanted to bring you to the edge. Do you notice that slightly-tingly pain feeling in your balls, Kyle? That's your jizz getting angry that it couldn't come out your dick. Right now, that angry jizz is turning your balls blue."

"Bullshit." Kyle had no ability to see his balls given the blindfold, but he was sure that despite it being true that his balls were tingling and in pain, there was no way they were literally turning blue. He tried another tack:

"So what fatass, you've got a fetish for Jews now huh? Hitler would be so proud to see you getting down on your knees in front of a circumcision!" Kyle hoped if he baited Cartman, the fat fuck might push him back in the chair and it could splinter or something. He needed an escape plan.

"Hitler went everywhere with a riding crop, Kahl. I'm pretty sure he was the biggest sadomasojizzt of them all."

"Hitler didn't want to have sex with the Jews, dumbass. He tortured and killed them!" Kyle fumed.

"Yes Kyle. Just as I'm torturing you now. Just as you long to torture me." Cartman said, his voice sure of itself. "I notice you're still quite hard, even without the stimulus of my mouth. Do you think maybe that's an anger boner, Kyle?"

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS! I AM NOT SICK LIKE YOU!" Kyle screamed.

"Damn, Jew." Cartman privately thought the whole performance had been kind of hot. Kyle was never one to give in easily; it was sweet honey to Kyle's captor to watch him pant with rage, resilient even when bound, gagged. Who else on earth could manage such a righteous performance with their cock hanging out?

It was a nice cock, too.

The silence was freaking Kyle out, perhaps even more than what had just happened. His voice was wild and wary when he asked: "Cartman?"

"It's when you pop a boner from anger, not desire." Cartman informed his prisoner.

"CARTMAN!" Kyle seethed.

"I think you need a bit of time out, Kyle, to regather your thoughts."

Cartman knew now that letting his quarry believe he was alone would wear him down faster than anything else. He slammed the basement door, locked it, then went up to his room to watch, via the camera, Stage Two.

xxxxx

Kyle wasted no time in trying to tip himself out of the chair. He finally succeeded in bringing himself down backwards on his arm, and screamed "Aw, shit!" as he fell heavily on them. Nothing broke - not his bones, and not the chair.

He tried to roll around on the floor to see if he could loosen the ropes, but damn if there was one thing Eric Cartman had practiced it was tying people up. He probably had all the knots required for the Boy Scout badge memorized, Kyle thought sourly. _Prick_.

The fear, the pain from his bruises and sexual weirdness was all too much for Kyle. His eyes welled with tears and he let go of one sob before trying to pull himself together. Cartman was probably watching this. Fuck, he was probably still in the room. Kyle stilled his own breath to see if he could hear the slightly overweight panting of his nemesis, but it seemed he was alone.

"Why, God, do you always let Cartman do things like this to people? To me?" Kyle muttered. "It can't be my fate to be Eric Cartman's fucking plaything for the rest of my school life. It just can't be." He sniffed.

If he couldn't get out of here on his own, Kyle just had to survive and wait for someone to find him. He should try to play his cards right to mitigate the physical and psychological damage Cartman did to him before then.

The fat turd had said no one would be looking for him until Monday. Kyle had no idea how much time had passed, but based on the fact that he hadn't gotten breakfast and yet wasn't exactly famished, it was probably around mid morning. 11ish maybe? 11am on Saturday morning, which meant he had roughly 45 hours to go until Stan would miss him at the bus stop and school at 9am on Monday. Stan would think it was weird if both Kyle and Cartman skipped.

Kyle sniffed, trying to stay positive.

 _Stan would come find him._

Xxxx

Cartman came in, wearing the outfit he had worn during his Passions rally, and slapping his little riding crop slowly against his thigh. He was so glad he'd never ditched the outfit—he'd always had a strange feeling it would come in handy again m.

"You've gotten yourself in a bit of an awkward position there, Jew." Cartman laughed. He moved the frame of the chair so that Kyle, who had been lying on his side, was now tipped so that his knees and face and chest were pressed against the floor, and the legs of the chair were sticking up almost at forty-five degrees. Cartman grabbed at some of the wood that had splintered in the seat of the chair during Kyles' attempted escape, and now broke it away, with sickening cracking sounds, until Kyle's bare bottom was just visible through the hollow seat of the chair.

"Oh God...Cartman! Don't do what you're thinking about doing!" Kyle was terrified. This was it. He was going to be raped. By Cartman. Caught on video.

But then Kyle hissed as the riding crop was lashed against his buttocks. "Fuck that hurt fatass!"

"What did you say?" Cartman's voice was venomous. Apparently, Cartman was playing the sadist now.

"I said Fuck that hurt Fatass!" The lash came down again, timed for the slur against Cartman's weight. Scared and enraged, the fighting spirit came out in Kyle, and he forgot all about his plans to minimize the damage and just wait it out.

"I'm sorry, Fatass—Ow!—was cholesterol—Ah! clogging your hearing? I knew you were coming cos I could smell your cologne..."

Cartman paused the whip.

"That subtle blend of cheesy poofs and snacky cakes is your calling card, tubby!—aaahoow!" Kyle gritted his teeth. "Maybe it's good that you're down here, working up a sweat beating me, instead of talking to some girl from school—after all, swinging that belt might be good for your pound-cake heart—Argh!—And it's certainly good for the girls at school—I predict female nausea is down 86 percent this weekend, all thanks to your gay obsession with me, you walking jello!"

Cartman was indeed panting from aerobic exertion, not that he'd ever admit it. "Seems the martyr streak in you is all too ready to take a beating...you might want to talk to your rabbi about your persecution complex one of these days, Kyall." Kyle was already regretting getting hot-headed as the sting really came out in his hindquarters—they were bruised, maybe even bleeding. "But I have another tack in mind..."

Kyle heard the fat boy snapping on a rubber glove, and flicking open what sounded like a detergent bottle or something..."Oh no."

"Oh yes." Cartman grinned.

"Get away from my ass, Cartman! Get away from there!"

"This will be easier if you relax, Kyle." Cartman must have been grinning from ear to ear, to see Kyle visibly shake.

"We might be here for a while, let me make you more comfortable." He slipped an old camping mattress under Kyle's face and knees before sliding a lubricated finger up and down Kyle's crack.

"So it says on the internet I'm supposed to scissor you with my fingers, to open you up." Cartman pretended to be reading from listed cues. Ever the fucking performer, Kyle knew.

"Uh...uh that's not..." Kyle faltered, blushing deeply and quivering on the verge of tears.

"Oh yes, please cry for me, Kyle." Cartman began.

Kyle couldn't help but sob a little as Cartman's fucking fingers explored around inside him. It was beyond violation having this creep he had always kept at arms length just stretching and playing - Kyle farted and burned scarlet as Cartman joked: "next you'll tell me I can activate a satellite dish up nyah." He pushed deeper.

"Hgnt!" Kyle's eyes flew open underneath the blindfold and he saw stars.

"That seems like our final destination: the prostrate. So called because it can floor a man in three seconds." Cartman joked. "How does that feel, Kyle? Kahl?"

But Kyle was zooming on a planet something like the place Kenny had described as the Planet of the Boobs when he got high. There was even eighties music there. But no people - just a giant acid trip Eric Cartman looming in the sky...

"Ahh...uh ahhhh." Kyle was moaning unabashedly. Cartman quirked his eyebrows - this prostrate was like some sort of magic button or something —Kyle was putty! It was almost too easy!

He reached around an with his other hand began to pump Kyle's cock, getting carried away with the excitement. "Yes Kyle! Come for me Kyle! You are MINE, KYEL!"

Finally, he succeeded in making a salivary substance dribble from the tip of Kyle's dick, then a tiny globule of white shot out and onto the floor.

"Ahhh hahahhhh" Kyle shuddered, and much to Cartman's horror, instead of bliss, Kyle was in tears. Violent, wrenching tears.

"What's wrong, man?" Cartman asked. This was not quite the outcome he expected. He didn't even want to taste one of the salty tracks that slipped from under the blindfold.

"What's—" Kyle broke off. "You don't even—"

"Well, uh I think you'll like Stage Three, Kyle; that's where you get to punish me! Even things out." Cartman swept past, set Kyle's chair upright, and fought an impulse to wipe the tears off Kyle's chin.

He attached a dog shock collar around Kyle's neck, holding the remote control in his own hand. "Here's how the game goes. You spank me as much as you feel I deserve. If you refuse to spank me, you get a little zap from Mr Bow Wow Safety Zap. I'll just free a hand for you..."

Cartman let out Kyle's left hand, but the red headed boy hardly seemed to notice.

Cartman pulled down his pants and slung himself across his foe's lap. "C'mon Kyle." Cartman waggled "don't make me zap you!" Kyle still did nothing. Sighing, Cartman pushed the remote.

Kyle jittered, then slapped Cartman's ass. Cartman remembered seeing something similar happen between Mr Garrison and Mr Slave. Funny how it hasn't seemed as hot then. "Mmm yeah, I'll take it, Kyahl." Another little zap got Kyle to bring down another blow. Then another. Suddenly, Kyle seemed to have gotten into the spirit of it. He beat Eric so hard that he slid off his lap, and Cartman started using the zapper to try to off call the crazy Jew.

"That's enough Kyahl! BAD Jew!" But somehow Kyle managed to get his other arm loose and was now using both hands to pummel Cartman with closed fists.

"Arrrgh!" Kyle's scream was primal. He broke what remained of the chair into splinters and launched himself through the air at Cartman. He landed on him, not even caring that his pajama pants had slipped off his ankles, and with his naked knees on the fat boy's chest, started punching him wildly. There was a sickening crack as he broke the boy's' nose; his left eye puffed shut and his hands were cringing up around his face as Kyle moved like a force of nature, beating his fat face, bruising his ribs, splitting his lip.

Cartman was a mess, unable to even sit up when Kyle held back a final punch, award that if he kept going he might actually kill the other boy. He sat back, panting, then limped upstairs, shutting the door to the basement and locking Cartman inside.

Dimly realizing he was naked, he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, and went to the phone, pressing one of the auto dial keys.

"Mrs Cartman? Eric's been hurt. It's pretty bad. You should come home." He left the phone dangling from its cord, and a frantic Mrs Cartman, hysterical on the other end.

He shuffled towards the door, but realized he couldn't go home, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd have to explain. And he didn't have words.

Instead he went to Stan's house.

"Hey Du—" the greeting died in Stan's throat. His friend was pale, shaking, his knuckles split and bleeding where they clung to the blanket. "Kyle, dude, are you...naked under there? Come in—"

He ushered Kyle up to his room. He handed him a spare T shirt and shorts and turned his back while Kyle struggled into them.

"You look like...Indy...is that what happened?" Stan asked so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Kyle gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Here, you're safe now." He helped Kyle climb into his own bed and brought him a glass of water.

"Do you know who—?"

"Cartman."

Stan's eyes went wide.

"That son of a bitch." Stan has always been vaguely worried that Cartman's obsession with Kyle was not quite right. But this...was too far.

The sun would soon set.

Stan waited until his best friend was asleep before he grabbed his baseball bat...He didn't know quite what he was going to do with it yet, but one thing was for sure: he was going to Cartman's house.

Xxxx

Stan got no answer when he knocked, and the door was unlocked when he tried it, so he went cautiously up to Cartman's room, calling the fat dildo's name as he went.

Cartman's room was empty, but the computer was on. Stan scrolled the mouse and realized he was looking at webcam footage. There was nothing in frame at first, but then he noticed Cartman, lying on the floor like a rag doll.

 _Kyle must've gotten even._ Stan smiled darkly at that thought. He pressed play at the start of the footage and was horrified to see Cartman had already begun editing the footage into a kind of montage of torturing Kyle.

Stan's mouth went dry. He couldn't look away. He watched Cartman taunt Kyle, suck his balls—why for god's sake?— and then reached the unedited portion. He jumped forward through the raw footage - stopping on a few still frames of Cartman beating Kyle off, the weird spank play and finally an enraged Kyle looming large as he knocked his captor to the ground.

Instinctively, Stan went to delete the file from the computer, but what if Kyle—or Kyle's parents—wanted to press charges? He stole a flash drive out of Cartman's drawer and transferred all the footage onto it before scrubbing the hard drive.

Suddenly there was a rush at the door.

"Oh mummy's little poopsikins! Oh my! Eric?"

Stan climbed out the window, pocketed the flash drive, and swung the bat onto his shoulder, wondering how the hell he was going to help his friend get though this.

Xxxx

"Seven hours." Kyle muttered to himself.

He'd only lasted seven hours before Cartman had managed to push him over the edge.

He felt like a failure. He should have been smarter. Should have used the kind of psychological trick on Cartman, that the fat boy would have used on him.

After staying the night st Stan's plsce, and taking a hot shower, Kyle decided he would have to tell a version of what happened to his parents. Who knows what bullshit story Cartman would tell his mum about being found beaten up on the floor? Kyle might even wind up in Juvenile Hall if the beating wasn't given context.

Stan was being very cool about everything. He'd been weirdly detached for a long time, Kyle knew. But Kyle needing his help had brought out the concern and care in the older boy's blue eyes. He grabbed his friend a bowl of cereal, then went to have a weird conversation with Kyle's mother - it was his job to sketch out what had happened to prepare Mrs Broflovski since the last thing Kyle needed was her hysteria.

Xxxxxx

"Where is he? Oh! my bubbie, my poor bubbie! Stan told me everything, Kyle." Sheila grabbed her son in a bear hug. Stan could see the relief on Kyle's face as buried into her enveloping arms. For once, Sheila didn't look like a walking pile of shit. It occurred to Stan, for the first time, that Kyle's mum, despite being overbearing and embarrassing, showed a lot more interest in Kyle's inner life than Sharon really did with him.

"Now bubbie, I know this is hard, but we should take you to Dr Ginsberg and have you examined. But I promise after, I'll bring you home and we can have Knishes for dinner before we say anything to your father."

Kyle wiped some tears away with the back of his hand and smiled up at his mum, feeling safe. "Thanks for everything, dude." Kyle wrapped Stan in a quick hug. "You're the best friend ever."

"Anytime."

"Yes thank you Stan, you've been so thoughtful and mature about all this; Kyle is lucky to have you." Shiela put a hand on his shoulder before shuffling Kyle out the door.

Stan felt weirdly guilty about being praised. He'd actually been a pretty shit friend lately. Cartman and Kyle had been hanging out more since his own issues started; was Stan somehow responsible for pushing the two together, for triggering this event in Cartman's fucked up little head?

He knew Cartman was probably already in the hospital, but he felt like going over there and beating him up all over again.

Xxxx

It was a couple of weeks since the incident. Cartman was healing well physically, but there was a lot of difficulty in finding him a juvenile-hall-appointed counselor. He kept getting in their heads and making them quit their jobs—or worse. Finally, he got placed with a middle-aged ex-convict called Archer who actually seemed to be able to keep up with Cartman's so-called "creative solutions" to having to face his problems.

He was encouraging Cartman to step back from what he'd done from his perspective, and try to look just at the events rationally. What did the person who set this all up want?

Power? Attention?

After a while, he got Cartman to try to put himself in Kyle's shoes, and live the day from his victim's perspective. Cartman had a harder time with that it seemed. He placed Kyle on a pedestal, Archer learned, as this kickass smart, strong, manipulative, perfect-reputation kid —these were traits the boy admired — but they also made him jealous. Plus, it seemed that his enmity with Kyle was the only relationship in his life where anyone seemed to give him any boundaries at all. Kyle was the only moral force in Cartman's life, the only disciplinarian—so Cartman both craved him and despised him.

After they'd done enough work that Archer felt was genuine—the kid's EQ was off the charts, he was good at bullshit—Archer recommended that Cartman start back at school. But he'd need to get permission from his victim first, to be able to rejoin the class...

Xxxx

Kyle had been talking to Ike over his shoulder, as he went to answer the doorbell; a genuine smile on his face for the first time in a while.

His own therapists, though expensive, hadn't been so great — truthfully, Kyle was smarter than most of them, and they hadn't really been able to grasp the truth of Cartman's character - even when he gave them the tape to watch, and explained Cartman's rap sheet, they tended to think Kyle was exaggerating as part of his trauma.

When he opened the door and saw Cartman standing there, looking awkward, he went to slam it again in his face. But Cartman got a foot in the crack and said "Hey man, can we talk?"

"I don't have anything to say to you." Kyle's voice was cutting.

"I have some things to say though: like...I'm sorry Kyle. I'm really, really sorry."

He handed over a folded pile of fresh laundry: Kyle's space-man pajamas.

Kyle's cheek burned. He grabbed the clothes and tossed them into the house.

"That's a good thing, but it doesn't mean I'm obligated to talk to you, Cartman."

"I know, but...I think maybe we both need some...closure?"

"Closure? I don't think I'm ever going to be able to put this behind us, Cartman. It can't go back to the way it was at school. This is a permanent thing for me...like a scar."

"Don't you think I know that? Every time I look in a mirror and see the fucking bump in my nose I remember what I did to earn it."

"You're not going to make me feel sorry for you Cartman—not ever again. Say what you want to say and go."

Cartman took a deep breath.

"I know now how it looks. What I did. But believe it or not, I actually thought at the time you would enjoy it. I have this thing where I think people experience the world the same way I do, so if I would enjoy something, I tend to think that others would too..."

"Dude." Kyle gathered a hazy understanding that all of those weird sex games were actually things Cartman _wanted_ Kyle to do to _him_. He shivered.

"Part of it was that I know I'm kind of a freak, and I'm really lonely..." Cartman looked down at his feet. "But that dynamic we have where I act out and you try and stop me, that makes me feel like I fit somewhere— that I fit into this stupid town full of hippies and rednecks."

"I won't be doing that anymore, Cartman. I'm staying away from you from now on." Kyle replied.

"F-Fair enough. There's just one more thing I have to say. I'm...sorry I misjudged our relationship; I know now it was all one-sided. But I'm mostly just sorry that I hurt you cos...cos..." Cartman's eyes met Kyle's. "I'm in love with you, Kyle."

Kyle gaped.

"You don't get to fucking say that to me, Cartman! Not after what you did!"

"I'm sorry Kyle, but it's true. And I want to come back to school, but only if you're read—

"—Get the FUCK off my doorstep!" Kyle slammed the door, and returned to Ike, panting, fists balled. One therapist had suggested Kyle's lingering PTSD manifested hypervigilance as violence: if he punched first, and asked questions later, he felt he wouldn't get hurt.

Cartman sniffed, eyes watering, and he walked home, looking over his shoulder only once. He'd knew he'd finally used the last of the Jew's charity.

Xxxx

Cartman was transferred to Middle Park Elementary. Rumors abounded as to why. Everyone knew Cartman had attacked Kyle, really badly, and that Kyle had broken Cartman's nose. But only the teachers and school counselor knew more details.

On Kyle's first day back, Mr Garrison called Kyle back after the others had left, and put a hand on his shoulder, and called Cartman "A creepy little fag" praising Kyle for defending himself. "Shame you didn't go full Jersey and kill him, really. No court in the world would have punished you for it."

Kyle actually vomited in the boys' toilets after that encounter—he'd daydreamed a few times about killing Cartman, before forcing the whole idea of Cartman to be clamped down out of his conscious mind. But he was bright enough to know that if _Mr Garrison_ approved of how you wanted to handle a situation, something was definitely wrong.

Kyle and Stan hung out almost exclusively these days, aloof and serious. Kenny's perverted jokes put Kyle's teeth on edge, and since he'd made Stan swear not to tell Kenny or Wendy or anyone else the true details of what happened in Cartman's basement, they couldn't really explain to Kenny why he needed to stop.

So Kenny gravitated over to hang out with Craig and Tweak and Butters, and the two boys kept their heads down, throughout fifth and sixth grade, and stopped going on quite so many adventures.

Sometimes the four boys saw each other at town meetings, or at the shops, but while Stan and Kyle would always wave at least to Kenny, they pretended Cartman didn't exist.

Xxxx

Their first month at Parks County Middle School, Stan and Kyle still clung together. Both boys were a foot taller now. Stan was a bit of a hipster, and wore his poof-ball hat ironically, a tiny bit of jagged black hair peeking out either side.

There was nothing ironic about Kyle's green baseball cap and his bright orange basketball shorts - he'd leaned pretty heavily into sports to channel his aggression. He'd already joined the County basketball team and the school swim team as well.

The boys had science and English Lit together. Kenny and Token were in their science class, which was cool, but unfortunately, a slightly-slimmer, far more quiet Eric Cartman was in their Lit class.

"Uh, dude, do you want me to try and get him switched out?" Stan asked when they both eyed the less-fat kid in the corner. His brown hair was a bit shaggier and he wasn't wearing a hat; now he favoured a big black printed band shirt, long shorts and a wallet chain.

He hadn't looked up, or in their direction once.

Kyle thought for a moment. "This is the only high school in-area, and the only Lit class - the other is English Fundamentals. There's kind of nowhere else for him to go..."

"Are you sure? You know how your mom will react if she finds out." Stan cautioned, surprised. He seemed madder about what Cartman had done than Kyle, all-of-a-sudden.

"Let's just leave it for now." Kyle put his head down.

Xxxx

"Eric, can we get you to come up here and read the soliloquy?" The English teacher asked.

"Uhm, no thanks Ms Reinhorn."

"But you did it so well in Drama the other day? Come on...Julian, you can be Roderigo."

The two boy came reluctantly to the front of the class. Then, Cartman began, his voice sinister, compelling: "Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I in any just term am affin'd to love the Moor."

Julian scoffed, "I would not follow him then."

Cartman laughed. "O, sir, content you;

I follow him to serve my turn upon him!"

He began to pace, as though he were talking only to himself: "We cannot all be masters, nor all masters cannot be truly follow'd...you shall mark many a duteous and knee-crooking knave that—doting on his own obsequious bondage—wears out his time, much like his master's ass, for nought but provender. And when he's old? Cashier'd!"

He looked up at Julian and laughed again. "Whip me such honest knaves! Others there are..." Cartman's voice became low and secretive, "who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, keep yet their hearts attending on themselves. And throwing but SHOWS of service on their lords, do well thrive by them."

Cartman looked Julian up and down, as though he were speculating on his worth.

"And, when they have lin'd their coats...do THEMSELVES homage. These fellows have some soul, and such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, it is as sure as you are Roderigo—"and here Cartman glanced up, and Kyle was sure the performing boy looked right at him—"Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago."

Cartman shook his head, and turned back to Julian. "In following him, I follow but myself—Heaven is my judge—not I for love and duty, but seeming so."

His voice became quiet and sinister again:

"For my...peculiar...end, for when my outward action doth demonstrate the native act and figure of my heart, in complement extern—"

Cartman gave the class a sadistic grin. His voice was scathing, sarcastic —tis not long after, but I will wear my heart upon my sleeve,

for DAWS to peck at." He laughed, a bitter sound, then muttered: "I am not what I am."

"Excellent, Eric!" Most of the girls clapped, Cartman bowed and sat down, ignoring one or two boys who did the "fag" cough.

Kyle felt suddenly sick, and leapt out of his seat, rushing into the hall to find a toilet.

Xxxx

The first term was almost over, when Kyle came out from the basketball lockers after a game, and heard the distinct sound of bullying.

"...if we hold you upside down and jiggle, do pudding cups come out?" Leered one voice.

"Hey..hey! Stop that!" Kyle started yelling, but blanched as he rounded the bleachers and saw Doug and Allen, pinning none other than a defeated-looking Eric Cartman to the wall.

"What's the matter Broflovski?" Allen was two grades older than them, and was also on the basketball team. "From what I hear, you're the one who gave Cartman this Streisand honker. I'll hold him if you punch?"

"What's he done?" Kyle asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He was being a little pervert and spying into the boys' locker room." Allen answered. "Weren't you Cartboy?"

"For the last time, no, fucktards—I was trying to break into the storage cupboard cos Mr Stanley confiscated my skateboard!" Cartman fumed.

"Where's the skateboard then?" Allen smirked.

"Still in the cupboard cos you demented ape-spawn grabbed me!" Cartman wriggled in their grip.

"Let him down guys. You can go look in the cupboard and see if he's telling the truth." Kyle reasoned.

Cartman's eyes lit up. Kyle was defending him?

"Like you need more evidence to know he's a perve than just looking at him!" Doug snorted. "Creepy metal shirt? Check. Wallet chain? Check."

Allen chimed in, "Plans to commit the next school shooting? Probably." He slammed his fist down beside Cartman's head.

"Careful Allen; don't ruin your knuckles or it will screw up your rebound." Kyle reminded him. Allen glanced down at his knuckles, already taped, and abruptly dropped his grip on Cartman.

"Wouldn't want his AIDS anyway. C'mon Doug." Kyle watched, passive as the pair slunk away.

"Th...thanks Kyle." Cartman muttered. "Assholes."

"Is there really a skateboard?" Kyle deadpanned.

"Yes there's a skateboard; Jesus Christ!" Cartman went over to the cupboard, crouched, and used an unbent paperclip to pick the lock. He pulled out a long board that had a skull decal and "Road Warrior" in gothic script down its frame.

"You must have some clout with the team, for Allen to give way once he's smelled blood." Cartman remarked.

"I'm the Power Forward." Kyle shrugged.

It was weird talking about normal stuff and not all the elephants in the room: _Cartman, you look like you're one more beating away from slitting your wrists._ Or, _The last time we were alone together this long, you said that you loved me._ Or the golden oldie, _You raped me._

"Are you okay?" Kyle finally settled on.

Cartman screwed up his nose, thinking. "I'm kinda fucked up generally, so its hard to tell."

A glimmer of a smile played around his lips, waiting for permission to appear.

Kyle gave a wry smile too, in spite of himself.

Then he nodded in a business-like fashion. "See you round, then."

Cartman hugged his skateboard to his chest, an old euphoria kernelling in his belly as he watched Kyle go.

Xxxx

During term break, there was a school camping trip to Tenmile Range for the seventh graders to make new friends and bond. It was also compulsory - each subject had a pass/fail activity to be graded up in the mountains.

Around mid morning, Kenny was alone in the remote forest, leaning in close to a little stream, trying to fill a test tube so he could test the turbidity for science class, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey Ken. What's the matter? Couldn't afford a real drink bottle?"

Kenny turned to see Eric Cartman sitting on a stone with a sketchbook and charcoals. Must be for art.

"Hey Cartman." Kenny had the hood of his parka pulled back, but he still seemed to mumble.

"So is that science crap? You're lab partners with Token, huh?" Cartman drawled, still sketching. "You want a smoke?" Cartman tipped the pack forward.

Kenny shrugged, took one, and put away the test tube, patting himself down for his lighter.

He lit it and took a seat on a mossy boulder nearby.

"What do you want, Cartman?" Kenny came straight to the point — he'd never known Cartman to do anything without a purpose, and a free smoke was no different.

Cartman blinked. "Nothing man, just thought it's boring as fuck up here and we could each use the company."

Kenny leaned back, shaking out his messy blonde hair. "We're supposed to be making new friends, not old ones, remember?"

Cartman snorted, "Either would be nice."

"Yeah well, whatever you did to make Stan and Kyle so pissed at you, at least you earned it. What the fuck did I do?" Kenny grumbled.

"What do you mean?" Cartman frowned.

"Back when you got sent to Middle Park, Stan and Kyle started scowling and calling me "immature" every five minutes, and sure enough, I got booted along with you." Kenny shook his head. "One day I'm their best friend, the next I'm getting frozen out. They never told me shit about whatever your last great caper was, or why I got cross-contaminated by it. I was just dead to them." Kenny took a drag, the irony not lost on him.

"Those bastards!" Cartman quirked an eyebrow.

"I just figured you'd lied about me being involved somehow." Kenny said this with little judgement or resentment, but Cartman shook his head.

"What did you even do to piss everyone off so much?"

Cartman blushed. "Well..."

"What, you're not gonna tell me either?" Kenny complained.

"It's not like that!" Cartman huffed. "I wanna tell you...but it's not just mine to tell..."

"Newsflash: you're never getting into Kyle's pants, no matter how hard you try; dude is asexual far as I can figure." Kenny muttered. "So you're not scoring any brownie points with him by keeping secrets for him."

Cartman blushed furiously. "It's not that...it's just not right, okay?"

Kenny narrowed his eyes. "Look at this — Cartman with a conscience? Did you cut a fucking toe off him or something?"

Cartman took a deep breath. "Something like that..."

Intrigued, Kenny leaned closer "Then what?!"

"It was something...of a sexual nature..." Cartman stammered. "But you've got to keep that under wraps okay? No body else knows, so if it leaks, I'll know it was you. And you may not be able to die, but you've known me long enough to know that my vengeance is a bitch, okay, Kenneh?"

"Oh my god." Kenny gripped the bridge of his nose and winced. "So you like, fucking traumatized Broflovski in some sexual way, and then he started freaking out whenever sex was mentioned. And I..." Kenny laughed bitterly "I kept on talking about big titties and anal - I even went through a stage when I used to "gay flirt" with all my friends..."

"Yeah...that wouldn't have helped." Cartman put in.

"But they could have fucking told me! Why not say: 'Kenny, you're creeping me out with all the sex talk, keep it in your pants, okay?"

"My guess is that Stan, mother hen that he is, did say that to you, a few times, but not why, so you shrugged it off." Cartman leaned over and offered him another smoke.

Kenny took it.

"Probably—I can't remember. You know, Kyle is still defensive as fuck. When he went to the Denver State Basketball Try-outs last year, the guy playing defense against him fell into him and grabbed at his ass, and Kyle turned around and punched him — out cold. He got fouled. That's the only reason he didn't make the state team."

Cartman's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't hear about that." He'd seemed so cool and together when they'd talked by the bleachers.

"You're not exactly in the loop." Kenny shrugged.

Cartman leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "Shit...how are you supposed to atone for breaking another person? Kyle was always that annoying guy who was nice the new kid...and defended the weird kids, and gave assholes second chances..."

"So wait." Kenny's blue eyes sparkled. "You weren't just messing with him, back then—you actually did want Kyle's hot body? Sick dude —you were like, ten? Eleven?"

"Like you can talk, Captain BJ." Cartman muttered.

Kenny laughed. "Can't fight that."

It was nice having his old friend back —Cartman could tell that for Kenny, the honesty had instantly cemented their old relationship. And Cartman sorely needed someone, anyone.

Xxxx

There were three boys' cabins and three girls' cabins that everyone returned to after 8pm for free time, which tended to involve a lot of sneaky drinking and parties, until lights out at 10:30pm.

Most of the other boys congregated in Cabin B each night; and played some dumbass prank game or Truth or Dare.

"We should play Soggy Saos." Butters suggested. That earned a chorus of "No way" and "What the fuck is a sao?"

"Gross, man." Token gave the blond boy a wary look. "How bout a drinking game?"

"Never have I ever!" Chorused Julian and another kid.

So the boys all got round in a circle, trying to think of questions that would force all the other boys to drink. "Never have I ever...broken a bone!"

Stan and Kyle both drank.

"Do I have to drink for each bone?" Kenny joked, reaching for the bottle.

"Never have I ever...skipped class." Almost all the South Park kids drank to that one.

"Never have I never...kissed a boy." A few others drank to a chorus of "What?!"

Kyle shifted uncomfortably.

"Never have I ever worn make up." There was a hoot of laughter from the other side of the room as Cartman took a swig.

"Shit, he's here." Kyle said to Stan. He took another long swig from his own vodka bottle without thinking.

"We don't have to play." Stan slurred. "We could go visit the girls' cabin..."

"Nah...be weird if I just got up, you know?" Kyle was getting very, very drunk.

Eventually it was Stan's turn. "Never have I ever...fantasized about Shelly Marsh."

This drew a laugh and a lot of drinks—Shelly had grown up hot.

Kyle laughed, slow to react, but he didn't drink either.

"Seriously Kyle? You practically live at the Marshes and you've never rubbed one out for Shelly?" Token grinned.

"Nope...in fact.." Kyle hiccuped "Never have I ever...jerked myself off."

An amazed silence fell. Kyle looked surprised at the hush.

"Bullshit!" A few people called.

Even Stan looked a little surprised.

"What?! Drink, you horny bastards!" Kyle yelled, trashed off his face. The entire room shrugged and raised a glass, Kenny raising two, while Kyle glanced around, realizing he was literally the only guy in the room who apparently didn't jack it.

What an idiot! He'd deliberately gotten trashed so he wouldn't look all weird and tense. And now, he'd made an even bigger spectacle of himself, and as soon as they all sobered up, they'd realize and have questions.

He got himself together, and blurted "I'm gonna heave" to Stan, and ran off in the direction of the toilets.

Xxxxxxxxx

Cartman found the stall where Kyle was puking, and handed him a bottle.

Kyle stared. "Don't think I need more alcohol."

"It's water, dumbass." Cartman handed it to him. Then the pair slid down the walls and rested near the sinks and showers end of the camping outhouse, away from the acrid smell of pee that always accompanied such places.

"You know, you don't look like him." Drunk Kyle said out of nowhere.

"Like who?"

"The boy that hurt me."

Cartman gulped.

"You're taller...thinner...Even your eyes are different...they don't sneer...do eyes sneer?" Kyle didn't seem to be expecting a definitive answer.

"I wish I wasn't the one that hurt you, Kyle. But it was me." Cartman said.

Kyle nodded. He stared.

"Something I've always wondered...how did you get to be...so pro-li-fic...at the sex stuff? Back then?"

Cartman grunted. Leave it to Kyle to use words like 'prolific' even when he was trashed. No wonder he was topping Lit.

"Yours was like...the fifth cock I'd had in my mouth by that point." Cartman rolled his eyes. "Mum and her friends gave me some pretty funny ideas about how common blow jobs were in the greater community."

Kyle mumbled "They abused you."

Cartman wasn't really sure if Kyle was really absorbing anything he said or not. "After the whole incident with you, I kinda made some bad life choices, and let a few greedy old cocksuckers take advantage of me — I think I was trying to balance the cosmic scales or some shit."

Kyle's hazel eyes blazed in a moment of clarity. "You actually know then. How it feels to be fucked up about sex?"

Cartman shrugged. "I guess. My self worth is in the gutter so I tend to give it up way too easily to anyone who shows interest."

"Cartman, your mom...she did that to you. With her shitty clients. Then you did it to me. Cartman? That means your mom...is a bitch!" Kyle looked pleased with himself.

Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Well! Cartman's mum is a dirty bitch...the dirtiest bitch in the whole wide world. She's a sad old bitch if —hic—ever was a bitch, and she fucks up little boys and girls..." Kyle got up and tried to dance.

"Ugh, let me tell you, DRUNK Jews definitely have no rhythm." Cartman snorted. He moved slowly over to the love of his life and tried to put his arms around him and take him outside for some fresh air before he hurt himself.

But Kyle curled up in Cartman's arms and leaned all his weight into the slightly shorter, broader kid, dragging them both back down to the floor.

Cartman's heart did somersaults. Kyle was sobbing. Nuzzling into his chest.

"Shh...shhh...it's all gonna be okay Kyle. One day. It will get better. " Cartman's eyes watered too. Kyle's skin was this amazing alabaster, he was tall and toned, smart and kind and good, and yet he was reduced to this. All this suffering he never deserved. He stroked Kyle's hair, and tried to be chaste and comforting.

Soon Kyle's sobbing had him wretching, and Cartman stood by Kyle, rubbing circles on his back while he threw his guts up again.

Suddenly, Stan came bustling in. He'd obviously been looking for his friend.

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit is right, you fucking predator! Get away from him!" Stan strode in and pushed Cartman as hard as he could. Cartman rocked back but didn't move much, he was a stocky teen.

"Stan..." Kyle tried to get his riled up friend's attention.

"I swear to God, you come near Kyle again, I will beat you so hard even you couldn't enjoy it." Stan sneered.

"Oh..oh." It had never really occurred to Cartman before, but given the angry blue eyes glaring at him, so knowingly...

 _Stan must have seen the video._

"You take care of him then, he's your friend Stan...I was just helping him puke...nothing more." Cartman vainly wished that Kyle would come round and testify to his version of events. But Kyle was leaning heavily against Stan.

"Come on, buddy." Stan whispered. "Let's get you to bed."

"Holy shit! YOU love him!" Cartman stuttered, seeing the look of tenderness in Stan's eyes as he held his friend's shoulders, talking gently.

Stan's eyes widened. "Fuck off, I'm not even a fag." He said just a little too late. "I'm with Wendy."

Cartman blinked. "Not right now, you aren't."

 _Stan's probably drawn to Kyle because he thinks of him as helpless_. Cartman thought. What he said out loud was "Kyle's stronger than you think he is."

"Fuck you, rapist." Stan glared.

Cartman held up his hands and watched the pair go. But when he got into his sleeping bag that night, all he could think of was Kyle, pressed into his arms.

Xxxx

Kyle pretended that he couldn't remember any of the night before, blaming the drink, and nursing a very real hangover.

But unfortunately, he could remember snippets. Cartman saying "yours was the fifth cock I had in my mouth..." and looking nonchalant as though he expected nothing better from the world...and something like "I give it up to anyone who shows interest."

And he'd promised himself he'd never feel sorry for Cartman again...

"Oh hey, it's Mr Purity." Token laughed, and held an imaginary microphone to Kyle's face "why the moratorium on choking chickens?"

"Fuck off, Black." He waved Token away.

Kenny piped up "And exactly who was this male celebrity crush you had, Token? Emmanuel Sanders?"

"Dude, that's racist." Token gave Kenny a playful shove, Kyle momentarily forgotten.

Kyle shot a grateful look to Kenny, who acknowledged it with a nod.

The days' activity was a wilderness trek. Each randomly alloted team had to canoe down the river, build a campfire and cook their own lunch, get the coloured flag assigned to their team, then canoe back to base by dinner time.

"Leopold, Kyle, Doug, Eric, Kenny and Craig, you're Red Team." Their teacher called, gesturing toward a red six-person canoe on the river bank. "Token, Matt, Stan, Julian, Clyde and Gary, you're Blue Team..."

"Dude..." Stan called to Craig. "Swap?"

"So you can be with Kyle?" Craig teased and flipped him the bird.

"Hrmph...Butters?"

"Sure Stan, I'll be a pal." They swapped places.

"Looks like you've got the band back together." Craig deadpanned.

Cartman flipped Craig off and made to get into the back of the canoe, so he could be far away from Doug. Much to his chagrin, Doug got into the second last seat. He cracked his knuckles and "accidentally" hit Cartman with the back of his oar.

"Kyle, you lead." Stan prompted, clearly trying to get as much distance between Kyle and Cartman as possible. Kyle climbed in front and Stan got in second, Kenny behind him.

"Wait, Ken. We've got to even out the ballast. We're back-heavy."

Craig sniggered.

"You go second-last, then Craig, then Doug." Kyle seemed his cool rational self as always, but Cartman was sure Kyle was trying to make sure Cartman wasn't trapped in the back with his bully.

They pushed off.

"I'll navigate." Stan pulled out the map from the backpack of supplies. "We go south along the river, then veer right, then we should get to a clearing on the bank where we have lunch. Then there's a forest trail to our flag."

Kyle called out "Stroke, Two and Three and Four."

It turned out there were a few veers and clearings that weren't clearly marked on the map.

"Stan...they couldn't expect us to move too far by river...are you sure we went the right way?"

"Not as sure as I was ten minutes ago." Stan admitted.

"Great. The Wonder Fags got us lost." Craig muttered.

"Shut up and row, retard...the current's changing." Kyle barked. It was suddenly much stronger. "Oh God...keep us churning back, there's a falls ahead of us!"

"Holy shit!" Doug panicked and started flailing more water into the boat than in front of them.

"We have to turn her." Kyle called. "Ready, Cartman?"

"What do I do?" Cartman was panicked. He'd thought the back of the boat did nothing.

"Paddle just on the left to effect the turn...steady..." Kyle called.

The boat turned until she was almost perpendicular to the stream. All of a sudden, a branch flew downstream on the water's surface and tangled with all the starboard oars.

"We're stuck!" Doug screamed. The canoe rolled and dumped everyone into the water, except Cartman, who was dragged along upside down under the hull.

"Keep hold of the paddles!" Kyle gurgled...But it was no use. They were about to be pushed over the edge of the falls to the rapids below.

Xxxx

The initial fall was only maybe five feet, but it was steep, and the boat, once freed from Cartman, got itself wedged between some of the rocks that formed rapids that followed the river all the way to its bend where it smoothed again.

Kenny popped up, still gripping his paddle, and hauled a concussed Craig onto the shore.

"Stan? STAN!" Kyle called. He saw Stan clinging to a rock in the center of the river, and swam out to help his friend get to the shore.

Doug was scrabbling like a puppy to get his legs up onto the bank.

Cartman was nowhere to be seen.

Once he had Stan safety to shore, Kenny called him and pointed. Cartman was floating, still, in the shallows.

Kyle swam over to him and with Kenny's help, dragged him out of the water.

"You blow, I'll compress." Kyle suggested to Kenny, trying to find the v of the large boy's sternum.

"Or we could just leave him." Stan muttered.

"Failure to provide first aid can be construed as manslaughter." Kyle replied, ever the lawyer's son. How could he explain that he wanted to save Cartman?

"Dude, I've got a coldsore." Kenny complained. Can someone else do it?

"Not me." Craig jumped in.

"Me either." Doug spat.

"I still think we should just leave him." Stan glared.

"Fine." Kyle huffed. "Swap with me, Kenny."

"Dude, no way! Don't put your mouth on him! I'll do it!" Stan was stricken.

But Kyle was already pinching Cartman's nose and huffing into his mouth.

"Ah ah. Ah. ah. Staying alive. Staying alive." Kenny sang, to give him the right rhythm for CPR.

Water burbled from Cartman's lips. Kenny rolled him onto his side.

"K...Khyall?"

There was no mistaking the look of pure love on Cartman's face as he stared up at the sober hazel eyes and the dark wet curls stuck to Kyle's forehead and neck.

Kyle saw it.

And so did all the others.

"Fuck! Fatboy's got the hots for you!" Craig deadpanned.

"Get away from him, Kyle. It's not safe!" Stan urged.

"What's he gonna do?" Kenny interjected. "He can't even sit up."

"You have no idea." Stan said darkly.

"Well maybe I would, if you'd ever bothered to TELL me anything!" Kenny was pissy now, too.

"You're too immature to handle it." Stan bit back.

"Fuck you! I've been to heaven AND hell Stan, I've died over a hundred times, and you think I can't handle some kinky sex shit?" Kenny fumed.

Craig and Doug looked up simultaneously. "What?!"

"Nice going, asshole!" Stan scowled at Kenny.

"Fuck." Kenny slapped his forehead with his hand. He'd screwed the pooch in less than twenty-four hours.

"Wait, where did they go?"

Stan followed Craig's question with a startled cry.

 _Kyle and Cartman were gone._

Xxxx

"Cartman, Wait!" The larger boy was surprisingly quick-moving when he wanted to be. "We have no idea where we are! You'll get lost!"

Cartman came face-to-face with the flat wall of a rock formation. "Fuck!" He swore. And turned around to look in Kyle's eyes.

"You still love me." It wasn't a question.

"Never stopped."

Cartman swallowed. A tear rolled down his cheek, but Cartman didn't blink or wipe it away.

"I never thought that it was real—not that it changes anything you did..." Kyle whispered.

Cartman hung his shoulders. "Look, I know. I know we can't be boyfriends, or even friends. I get it. I don't have hopes. But I can't just turn it off: it's not a tap."

Kyle nodded slowly.

"You...you took care of me, when I was drunk. I was alone with you, and you were..."

"I kept my hands to myself." Cartman agreed, the tears still falling, sometimes aggressively wiped with his sleeve.

"You were...nice."

"I take Drama, Kyle. I can fake a whole range of emotions." Cartman laughed weakly.

Kyle took a step toward Cartman, who flinched. He assumed Kyle was going to hit him. Instead, Kyle searched his face, got close...

And brushed his lips against Cartman's.

Surrendering immediately, Cartman opened his mouth. Kyle could taste the salty brine of the river.

He remembered Cartman's soft, sensual lips; though they'd never actually kissed. He angled his mouth so he could push more into Cartman's with his tongue. It was gentle, passionate, yearning. Kyle had tried to kiss a girl before, during a party game, but he'd never felt anything from it. He'd assumed he was just a bad kisser.

Now, he curled a hand in Cartman's hair, keeping him pinned up against the rock wall. Cartman's pupils were so dilated his blue-grey eyes seemed almost black.

Kyle pulled back, and smiled. "Not bad, huh?"

"Dude." Cartman breathed, unsure what to say.

Kyle gave him that no-bullshit look again.

"If this is gonna work out, though, we have to keep it secret—Mom would flip. And we go slow...I set the pace." Kyle frowned at him.

"Yes, sir."

"And you never, under any circumstances ever, go anywhere near my ass again. Not even a grope. You got me?"

"You pitch, I catch." Cartman spoke a little too quickly. "Got it."

"Oh, and there's one last thing." Kyle gave him an evil smirk. Before all this lovey kissy stuff goes too far, I have to get even."

Cartman blanched. _He couldn't mean..._ Then Kyle flipped him so his stomach was pressed against the rock, and his hands were pinned above him with Kyle's left arm. With his other hand, Kyle dragged at Cartman's long shorts and underwear down, biting at the back of Cartman's neck as he did so.

"Fuuuck." Cartman breathed. This seemed so far removed from any realm of possibility, he began to wonder whether he'd actually drowned in the river.

He decided he didn't care.

"Suck my fingers." Kyle commanded. Cartman eagerly complied, then realized Kyle was lubing him up. He quavered a little. Kyle was fucking scary like this...it made Cartman ache all the way down to his toes.

"Sorry to break character, but this is okay, right? You consent?" Kyle whispered into his right ear.

 _Oh God...Kyle was playing dom for him!_

"Fuck yes. You are the single hottest entity in the universe." Cartman breathed. "Do it."

Kyle pushed his way into Eric's asshole, stretching and feeling around for the so-called "magic button".

"Uhh...ujh" Cartman moaned like a fucking porn star, high pitched and breathy. Kyle sucked on the back of Cartman's neck, giving him a hicky, and waiting for Cartman's groans to reach crescendo.

"Bingo." Kyle withdrew his fingers, and spat onto his own hardened cock, rubbing the lube around before positioning himself over a slightly more bent-over Cartman. "Ready to go over the edge, slut?"

Cartman whimpered his compliance as Kyle worked on pressing himself into the opening—he was a fairly tall guy and had a larger than average shoe size. Once he'd slid his cock down, he was sure the tip had found Eric's prostate, because Eric was moaning and bucking again. Kyle kept his hands on Cartman's hips and steadied him.

"Remember, I'm driving, not you." Kyle said. "You'll just have to be patient...oh, and bend over more. Good. I want to fill you up."

Cartman's hips jerked in response and he saw stars and planets as his new boyfriend pounded him _. Kyle Broflovski was talking dirty to him?! He'd definitely died in that boat accident._

It was no surprise to either of them when Cartman came in a matter of seconds, practically squealing, but Kyle clamped a hand over his mouth and steadied him, not in like he had in Loogie's restaurant, grinding into him until he too shuddered and came.

Kyle's face flushed...all of a sudden he felt vulnerable, awkward. But then Cartman slipped out of his embrace, turned and gently stroked his lover's hair.

"Shh...it's okay. You're in control, you've got this." Cartman breathed. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." Kyle was tight lipped, but seemingly happy. He leaned down to rest his forehead against Cartman's.

"You still want to go out with me after that? I'll understand if that was a hit and run." Cartman began. But Kyle shushed him.

"Yeah. I know it's fucking weird, but I think I do. I've never been able to do anything close to that before —even as a fantasy in my head — I just shut down. But...you're one of a very small number of people who know what's happened to me." Kyle paused. "And I hope you'll tell me more about what happened to you."

Cartman couldn't believe his ears. "I don't deserve this."

"Lucky for you, what we get often isn't what we deserve." Kyle joked, cupped Eric's face, and pressed a kiss to his lips that deepened.

Standing above them on the rock ledge, Stan watched them with lead in his heart.

Xxxx

When the boys had tidied themselves up, and made their way back to the river bed, Craig was studying the map, while Kenny made some lunch. Doug was supposed to be getting firewood, but he was mostly hanging around, morose.

"Hey." Kyle said, walking first.

"Find the gaywad?" Doug asked.

"If you have a problem with queers, Doug, you're outnumbered." Craig didn't even look up from his map. "Just thought you should know."

Doug blinked. "You?"

"We're not always easy to spot." Craig deadpanned.

Kenny laughed, and stirred the camp-stove.

"Any idea how we get back to camp?" Kyle asked Craig.

"We'll need to climb up beside the falls, lugging the boat. Then put her on the water at the top and paddle back the way we came."

"What about the flag?" Kenny put in.

"Fuck the flag." Craig said. "We've gone over a waterfall and had one guy lose consciousness. "Let's just go home."'

The others murmured their agreement.

"I'll go get the boat — you stir the food Cartman; Kenny, you're the next strongest swimmer...help me?"

Kenny and Kyle each took an oar and swam out to the boat. Using the oars like levers, they managed to pry up the canoe and get her back to shore.

"Your boy's pretty hot." Craig observed to Cartman, watching the shirtless Kyle and Kenny flex their shoulders to row back toward shore.

Cartman coughed. "Jew's not my boy."

"Yeah right." Craig gave him a knowing look. "Then why is Stan off crying his eyes out somewhere?"'

Cartman looked around the camp.

 _Stan was nowhere to be seen._

Xxxx

About an hour later, Stan sauntered into camp while everyone else was eating.

"Get some grub, man." Craig held out a bowl.

"It's actually pretty good - Kenny made it." Kyle said. "Where'd you go, anyway, dude?"

"I went off looking for you, and I got lost." Stan spat. "Thanks for coming to find me."

"We were all going to—as soon as we ate." The pissier Stan got, the more reserved Kyle became. He'd always reacted like that.

"Well, I think I should get to lead on the way back — since under your leadership, we ended up shipwrecked." Stan huffed.

"Dude! You had the map." Kyle objected. "But fine - you lead, Craig can have the map, and the rest of us are the dumb muscle."

He elbowed Kenny and the pair of them laughed.

Stan scowled.

Kyle never voluntarily touched anyone.

 _What the fuck kind of voodoo had Cartman used on him?_

Xxxx

As predicted, when the Red Team returned without their flag, but with a story of going over a goddamned waterfall, the teachers gave them all passes for the activity out of sympathy...and fear of litigation.

They were, of course, the last team to make it back to the boat shed. Kyle was dragging the canoe hull up to the rack, when Stan came in behind with the only four oars they'd managed to salvage.

It was dark - on dusk - and when Kyle turned, Stan was just a silhouette in the doorway.

"Just tell me one thing - what the hell were you thinking?" Stan's voice was ice cold.

"What?" Kyle blushed. _Oh shit..._

"Why have I made it my life's fucking mission for the last three years to protect you from that creep, only to find you sucking face with him?" Stan demanded.

"I..." Kyle didn't know how to explain.

"Did he get inside your head somehow? Is it hypnotism, drugs, what?! I don't fucking get it...what's wrong with you?"

"I don't KNOW!" Kyle cried. "I know he's the last person in the world I should ever be comfortable around...and he was, until the other night."

"Last week, he used to make you puke on sight! How does that go one-eighty so soon?" Stan groaned "Jesus, you're so fucked up. Maybe you ARE a sadomasochist..."

Kyle shrank down as Stan said that, and the blue-eyed glare instantly softened, but it was too late.

"It's like this, Stan." Kyle sniffed. "I saved Cartman from being bullied a while back, and I could tell he was hanging on by a thread, you know? Then the other night, he's decent to me when I got trashed, and I find out Cartman was being abused from Day One by his mother's freaking clients..."

"So it's all right for him to abuse you then." Stan barbed.

"I'm not saying that, and neither did he!" Kyle panted. "It just — makes him less of a monster and more of a human with context, doesn't it?"

"Cartman was always a monster."

"Old Cartman sure, but New Cartman?"

"They're the same damn person, Kyle! A manipulative freak with a rap sheet a mile long! Who need I remind you, filmed himself raping you at the tender age of ten! Whatever that is, whatever causes that, it's not redeemable, Kyle."

"Then...you must think I'm not redeemable either." Kyle's voice quaked.

"What?" Stan was confused by the change in direction.

"According to you, am I doomed to be a damaged asexual with anger management issues for the rest of my life?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not saying that—" although, if Stan was being honest with himself, he had sort of thought so. "You just need someone who's prepared to be patient with you, to do things in a healthy way..." Stan swallowed. "Like me."

Kyle gasped. Some clouded memory rang in his head...Cartman's voice saying "Holy shit...you love him"...and Stan replying.

 _His whole world began to swim._

"But you're with Wendy?" Kyle asked.

"Fuck, you're so naive. Ever heard of a beard?" Stan laughed. "I've been waiting. Not wanting to push...I wanted to let you feel safe to make the first move, so I didn't fuck you up. But now I turn around and you're begging the enemy for more abuse!"

Stan sighed at the confused expression on Kyle's face. "Look, you know my own life was in a fucking bleak place back then. Nothing mattered to me at all. Everyone in my life, even you — seemed so shitty and shallow. Then that day you knocked on my door. What had happened to you...your suffering...there was finally something in my life worth protecting, worth fighting for, worth getting out of bed for. In a fucked up way, I was trying to save you, but you'd given me purpose—you saved me."

"You love me...because I was a victim? Am I made of glass, Stan?" Kyle couldn't believe how he'd gone from feeling finally freed of some of his issues to an emotional shut-in, all in the space of one afternoon.

"No...no, I'm not saying it right." Stan took a step toward Kyle, who instinctively stepped back. Stan gulped, he was crying now too.

"Will you please, let me kiss you?" Stan asked. "I just want us to see—"

"I don't think so, Stan..." Kyle faltered.

"You'll let that perverted fuck kiss you, but not me?" Stan yelped. "I still have nightmares about what I saw on that fucking video, Kyle. I really do love you and care about you. You're just a kink to him..." Stan had crowded in to Kyle's space, and he noticed Kyle was shaking.

He stopped abruptly.

"Fine." Kyle's voice came almost through gritted teeth. After everything Stan had done for him, he owed him at least that, he figured.

Stan closed his eyes, and brushed his hand down Kyle's face. The weird thought came to Kyle—"Stan thinks I'm the chick...but to Cartman, I'm the guy..."

Stan tilted Kyle's chin so he could press their lips together. Open mouthed, Stan began to draw soft kisses across Kyle's lips, but those lips remained firmly closed.

Stan slid his hand to Kyle's neck and shoulder, thinking a gentle rub might help Kyle relax.

"It's okay." Stan said. "It's just me."

"No...it's..." Kyle was apologetic. "I don't think I'm into this. I'm sorry, Stan."

"So, I make you freeze up, but you can kiss Cartman like you're in a god damn porno?" Stan pushed away, angry. "You need to go back to therapy."

"Stan, listen, I'm really—"

"No way dude. You pursue this thing you've got going with Cartman ONLY on the condition that you return to weekly therapy." Stan demanded. "Or, I tell your mother."

Xxxxx

Kyle was shaking like he hadn't in a while when he stumbled out to a rock cliff near the cabins where the kids sometimes sat to watch sunset. He'd missed dinner, but he didn't care. The moon was on its way up, and he plonked himself down with a bottle of cider.

"Dinner was lame, but I brought you these. No fucking idea if they're kosher." Cartman sat down next to him, a little way away, and handed him a serviette wrapped around four little square meat pies.

"Thanks, dude." Kyle grabbed a pie and ate it.

"Today kinda sucked."

"Oh..." Cartman said, leaning back, misunderstanding.

Kyle quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't mean with you...I had a big fight with Stan in the boat shed—that's why I missed dinner. He...knows we kissed."

"Good thing he didn't see the rest of the show or I'd likely be dead by now." Cartman deadpanned.

Kyle blushed. "Probably."

Cartman drew a smoke out of his pocket and lit it. "So what did he say?"

"Gross dude, you smoke?" Kyle wrinkled his nose.

"Duh." Cartman tried to blow the smoke away from the haughty red-head. "Dealbreaker?"

Kyle laughed. "We've already checked some pretty big items on the dealbreaker list before we get to smoking."

Cartman gave a wry smile, and waited.

"So...Stan sort of made me kiss him." Kyle sideglanced at Cartman to gauge his reaction, but the broader boy hardly seemed surprised.

"He got pissed when I didn't like it. I think he thinks I have Stockholm Syndrome or something." Kyle shook his head. "So he gave me the ultimatum: go back to therapy and talk about seeing you...or...he tells my mom."

"Go to the therapy." Cartman sputtered.

Kyle looked amused.

"Your mum fucking terrifies me, Kyle!" Cartman visibly shuddered. "Plus...it couldn't hurt. Stan might have a point."

"You too?" Kyle rolled his eyes. "You know, studies have shown that Stockholm Syndrome is far more likely to cause captors to fall in love with their hostages, not the other way around. It's kind of a myth." Kyle smirked. "Maybe YOU should go to therapy."

Cartman laughed. "As if I ever LEFT therapy, Kyle."

It was weird, being comfortable enough to laugh about such sinister shit. But also...kind of good.

"You know, I don't think Stan really is in love with me." Kyle muttered. "I think he's built this whole fantasy about me being some fragile princess in a tower...but he's been so good to me, such a decent friend, that I do feel like I'm betraying him."

"I've said it before, I don't mind backing off—"

Kyle cut him off. "—fuck that! I don't want to over-think the right and wrong of all this for once. I seem to be able, for whatever reason, to relax around you, I can touch people without freezing or wanting to deck them...I feel like this is actually good for me." Kyle sighed. "Is it naive to think I have any idea at all about what's best for me, though? I mean, I've never even jacked it."

"By all means go to a therapist, Kyle, talk some of this shit out, but don't let Stan worm into your head." Cartman advised. "You've gone through a lot, but you're the strongest person I know. Even when we were primary schoolers you were saving the world every other week—"

"Half the time I was saving them from YOU, Fatass." Kyle teased.

"Granted." Cartman nodded. "But still — you made it through all that and you're not afraid to be kind to people, you know? You're fucking merciful to your enemies." Cartman blushed. "Nobody is like that anymore."

"Sure...when I'm not knocking out perfectly innocent Point Guards." Kyle grumbled. "I still have a lot to work on violence-wise."

"My therapist, Archer?" Cartman began. "He says that if you want to change who you are, you have to make a space in your head between your thoughts and your reactions. We're not made up of our worst instincts and behaviors; who we really are is who we choose to be in our calm rational moments. And then, you practice making that space more often."

Kyle blinked. "Is that how you...changed?"

"I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm still working on it all. Instinctually, I was jealous as fuck when you said you kissed Stan...but I made a space and thought it through before a string of profanity besmirched these pretty lips."

"Your lips...really are pretty. Kinda gay to come right out and say it though, huh?" Kyle scratched the back of his head. "I have zero practice flirting."

"Want me to do some Bill for you?" Cartman cleated his throat and addressed the night sky. "Witness, you ever-burning lights above, you elements that clip us round about... witness that here Iago—" Cartman gestured to his own chest—"doth give up the execution of his wit, hands, heart, to wrong'd Othello's service!" Cartman grabbed Kyle's hand, and held it up like an arena champion's.

"Let him command. And to obey, shall be in me remorse...what bloody business ever."

"So in this rendition, I'm Othello?" Kyle quirked an eyebrow.

"Jew, Moor...what's the difference?" Cartman teased. "Either way...I am your own...forever."

"That sounds like something a vampire would say." Kyle laughed, and leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Cartman's. "So you were trying to flirt with me, that day you did Iago in English class?"

"When I made you throw up?" Cartman sighed. "I figured out later that's why you rushed out of class. "No, I was just kinda...struck by the parallels between us and the characters, and I was wondering if you'd twigged to it, too."

"C'mon dude—I'm topping Lit." Kyle teased. "If you saw it, I saw it months ago."

Cartman grumbled. "Some things never change."

Kyle ruffled his brown hair sarcastically, and his hand came to rest on the other boy's shoulder. Kyle brushed his cheek against Cartman's, then his long fingers trailed past the pulse point of Cartman's neck and up under his chin. Just when Cartman thought they were finally going to kiss, Kyle bypassed his lips and started running his teeth and hot breath over the shell of Eric's ear.

"You like taking your time, don't you, Jew?" Cartman sounded breathy and a little pissed off.

Kyle shrugged. "You're the one who taught me how to do it." With that, Kyle pushed the other boy 'til his was flat on his back, and trailed open-mouthed kisses from his neck to his cheek, before falling upon his waiting lips.

Cartman was in ecstasy from the pressure and attention and was already moaning loudly into Kyle's mouth.

"Shh dude! You'll attract the whole camp!" Kyle laughed. When he clamped a hand over Eric's mouth, and began kissing along the collarbone, his balls aches and his cock hardened and twitched, and he was sure he was leaking pre-come in his pants.

But Kyle had said they were going to take it slow. Kyle would set the pace. So he'd have to wait.

 _Wait..._ Eric looked up and watched Kyle's features smirk in the moonlight, after he'd "accidentally" brushed Eric's erection through his jeans for the third time.

 _Is that bastard playing the victim card so he can edge me?_

His boyfriend's face was silhouetted, inscrutable.

"Fuuck..." instinctually Cartman's hands went to grab Kyle's ass, but, remembering their earlier conversation, he pulled them back awkwardly beside him.

Kyle wasted no time in pinning Eric's arms above his head and grinding into his pelvis. His head shot back and he moaned like a banshee, Kyle quick to close his mouth over Eric's and stifle him with his tongue.

"Well fuck...if this is some S&M game, does this mean I'm winning or losing?" Cartman wondered.

Then Kyle's erection pushed up against his, between the fabric of their jeans, and he had one last conscious thought before blissing out:

 _I don't care._

xxThe End xx


End file.
